


Method in His Madness

by elaine



Category: Invisible Man (TV 2000)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bout of Quicksilver madness brings some unexpected revelations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Method in His Madness

It was an ordinary suburban street, lined with ordinary suburban houses and ordinary suburban gardens, but Bobby Hobbes was not impressed by this vision of normalcy. He leaned against the tan coloured van and glanced at his watch for the third time in less than a minute. He could feel a muscle twitch in his face, the one that always twitched when he was nervous, or upset, or had forgotten to take his meds.

"Dammit, you tell a guy he oughta take his job seriously and suddenly he wants to be a hero." Hobbes pushed himself away from the van and began to pace, knowing he was likely to draw attention, but unable to stop himself. "Freaking gland doesn't make a guy an agent. Years of training, that's what makes an agent."

Thirty-five minutes ago Darien Fawkes had disappeared inside that ordinary looking house, three doors down the street. Hobbes didn't know exactly when his partner had gone saran wrap, but he had to be running out of time. Thirty minutes and he'd go crazy. Not just crazy like Hobbes went sometimes, when he stopped taking his meds, but homicidal maniac crazy. Hobbes had seen it and it wasn't pretty. He wondered, with a little shudder, if Fawkes could go crazy while he was still invisible, and whether that would make him visible again. The thought of an invisible madman was enough to make him go cold, even on a sunny day like this.

Or maybe it wasn't what he was thinking that was making him feel cold. "Fawkes? You here?"

A quiet sound, like glass shattering into a million tiny shards made him turn his head. Fawkes was behind him, pale and swaying on his feet. Hobbes caught his arm and dragged him to the back of the van.

"Get in. We'll be back at the Agency in no time, my friend." He pushed his unresisting partner into the van and slammed the doors shut. He didn't have much time.

*

"Clare! Get the Hell over here with that needle." Hobbes managed to drag his struggling partner into the basement lab. "All right, all right, just keep it together, dammit Fawkes. She'll be here in a minute."

Except that the lab was empty. "Okay. We'll just get you into this nice room where you can't hurt anybody, huh Fawkes?"

Even in the grip of Quicksilver madness, Fawkes obviously knew that room. He snarled and began to fight in earnest. All traces of the kind-hearted, gentle guy Hobbes knew had disappeared under the gathering madness and Hobbes knew he was in trouble. Whether it was the Quicksilver, or the adrenaline rush the madness caused, when Fawkes succumbed to it he became incredibly strong.

Hobbes managed to get him into the padded room by tackling Fawkes and bodily shoving him inside. Unfortunately, that meant that Hobbes ended up in the room too. He managed to slam the door shut, where it would automatically lock, and then backed hurriedly away from the red eyed monster Darien Fawkes had become.

Fawkes came towards him, a hunter stalking his prey. Hobbes held up his hands in a placating gesture that did no good at all. "Take it easy, Darien. The Keeper'll be here in a couple minutes. All you have to do is hold it together a little bit longer."

Fawkes was almost touching his hands now, his breath coming hard and fast. Then he growled low in his throat. "Get away from me."

There was nowhere for Hobbes to go; his back was already against the wall. "Hang on, Fawkes. You can do it."

Fawkes lifted him, as easily as Hobbes might lift a child, and threw him across the room. He managed to roll as he landed and regain his feet. Hobbes backed away, thankful that he now had a bit of room to manoeuvre. Immediately, Fawkes was after him again. There was no escaping him, and no fighting the madness enhanced strength. Hobbes' safety lay in evading his partner until the Keeper could get the counteragent into him.

That wasn't going to be easy. As well as enhancing Fawkes' strength, the madness made him as fast as greased lightning. Hobbes managed to slip out from under the first couple of mad rushes, but he was running out of room again. Unless he could get past Fawkes and into the middle of the room again, he was soon going to be trapped against another wall.

Fawkes was getting ready to charge him again. Hobbes was learning to read the signs and he braced himself. He'd have to move towards Fawkes – definitely a scary thought – and then duck under his arm. Just a second more and...

"Bobby, hold on." The Keeper's Australian accent shattered his concentration. "I'll be there in a minute."

Hobbes tried to dive forward, but too late. Suddenly he was trapped between the padded wall and the hard lean strength of Fawkes' body. He wasn't going anywhere now, and Fawkes could rip his throat out, or break his neck, without any trouble at all.

"Fawkes." His voice was little more than a weak croak. Hobbes swallowed, took a deep breath and looked madness in the eyes. "Fight it, Darien. You can do it."

Fawkes' bloodshot eyes glared their confusion and fury into his. It didn't look like his words were having any effect. Then something changed; Fawkes' face hardened and his head lunged downwards.

For a moment Hobbes was too confused to react as Fawkes' lips ground against his own. It was a brutal, angry kiss, and Hobbes struggled to push him away. It was hopeless, as he'd known it would be, but he felt more than just fear now, as Fawkes' tongue took savage possession of his mouth.

Panic lent him a tiny portion of extra strength and Hobbes used it to push Fawkes away. The respite wasn't enough to get him free, but he managed to get in a couple of punches. It ought to have been enough to slow Fawkes down a bit, but it made no impression on him at all. Within seconds Hobbes was trapped again, and this time he felt the hard outline of Fawkes' erection pressing against his belly.

The next few moments were a blur. Hobbes had almost forgotten about The Keeper, so when her blurred face appeared beside Fawkes' shoulder, he didn't react at all. Then Fawkes howled in fury and collapsed against him. Understanding took a second or two longer, but Hobbes was already instinctively trying to support Fawkes while his own knees turned to jelly.

A couple of the nameless Agency goons, chosen more for their muscle than their brains, appeared out of nowhere to drag Fawkes off him. He managed to get his legs straightened and followed them across the room and into the lab area. "Hey, watch it willya? Try to remember he's one of ours."

Goon #1 grinned over his shoulder while Goon #2 sniggered loudly. "Don't worry, we'll take good care of your boyfriend."

"Hey! Bite your tongue." Hobbes grumbled under his breath all the time they were hoisting Fawkes onto the chair, but nothing was going to make him leave until his partner checked out okay.

"He'll be all right." The Keeper finally turned away from Fawkes. She frowned. "Are you okay, mate?"

Hobbes suddenly became aware of the taste of blood in his mouth. His lips felt swollen and raw, and he was sure he was going to be covered in bruises, but he shrugged as nonchalantly as he could and tried to forget the feel of Fawkes' body against his. "Sure. It was nothing Bobby Hobbes couldn't handle."

"You're sure?" She gave him a searching look and then turned back to Fawkes. "Well, he's going to be out for a while. Why don't you go report to The Official?"

He left without a word and climbed the stairs slowly to the first floor. His report to The Official was hardly worth the breath that he used on it, since only Fawkes knew what had happened inside the house. Afterwards he went home and took a shower, but couldn't rid himself of the scent of his own fear.

*

"So what're you looking at?"

Fawkes' eyes shifted to the bruise on Hobbes' lower lip, then away again. "Nothing."

"Yeah? Well don't. Okay?" Hobbes hid a grin.

Since Fawkes attacked him two days ago, his partner had been acting strangely. Watching him and trying not to show it, treating him like he was made of glass. Hobbes had spent most of that time torn between irritation and amusement. Except for the times when he'd feel Fawkes' body against his, see the madness in his eyes, and then he'd have to get away from Fawkes for a while until his heartbeat returned to normal.

"You want another drink?" Fawkes glanced over to the bar. There weren't many people in here on a Monday afternoon.

Suddenly Hobbes was tired of the game. "Look, why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"

"Nothing's bothering me." The answer came too fast, as though Fawkes had been expecting the question.

"Yeah, something's bothering you." Hobbes lifted the glass to his lips and drained it. "It's about the other day." He grinned openly this time, as Fawkes' eyes met his in surprise. "See, I know these things. Bobby Hobbes sees everything. And don't you forget it."

Fawkes rolled his eyes. "I'm getting another drink."

"Fawkes..." Hobbes grabbed his arm as Fawkes pushed himself out of the booth. "It's no big deal. You didn't know what you were doing. I saw your face, it was crazy."

Fawkes slumped back in the seat. "I did know what I was doing."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, then another few seconds for Hobbes to find his voice. "No you didn't, Fawkes. You were crazy-out-of-your-head." He circled his finger significantly at his temple.

"It's not like that. I know what's happening, Hobbes." Fawkes clenched his hands into fists. "I just can't control it."

Hobbes swallowed and grasped at that last straw. "There, ya see? It's not your fault."

"You don't see it, do you?" Fawkes looked, if possible, more miserable than ever. "Everything I do... the anger, the violence... it's all there inside me, inside everyone. But normal, sane, people don't let it out. I do. When the Quicksilver madness takes over, I can't stop myself."

"Wait a minute." Hobbes raised a shaking hand to his forehead. "You're saying you wanted to kiss me? Really wanted to? It wasn't just the Quicksilver?"

Fawkes was staring down at the tabletop. His head shook slowly from side to side. "It can't make me do things... be... what I'm not. It just releases the inhibitions that stop me doing those things." He took a deep breath and glanced up briefly before returning to his study of the tabletop. "The things I see inside myself... nobody should have to see those things Bobby."

The sounds of quiet conversation suddenly seemed very far away. Hobbes stared at the top of Fawkes' head without really seeing the untidy mop. He slid out of the booth abruptly and headed for the door. "Let's get outta here."

"What?" Fawkes stumbled to his feet and fell in beside Hobbes. "Where are we going?"

Outside in the parking lot, Hobbes pulled open the van door. "Get in."

Fawkes, for once, did as he was told, but when Hobbes got behind the steering wheel he repeated his question.

"A place I know. Somewhere we can talk, okay?" Hobbes avoided looking over at his partner. He wasn't sure how Fawkes was going to react to their destination. He suspected it was going to be a difficult situation, but even though his palms were sweating, he had no intention of backing out.

*

"You're kidding me, right?" Fawkes stared around the grubby, rather tacky motel room in disgust. "Bobby, tell me you're kidding."

"Nope." Hobbes was feeling strangely relaxed, now that he'd committed himself. "I used this place once on a stake out. You can rent the rooms by the hour. I thought maybe we could talk."

"Oh." Fawkes looked relieved. "So how many hours have you hired this room for?"

"The whole night." Maybe he wasn't so relaxed after all. Hobbes was about ready to break into hysterical laughter at the shock in Fawkes' face. "I thought this was what you wanted, Darien."

He watched as Fawkes' lanky figure paced two steps to his right, then four steps back the other way. They were long steps, and all that the room allowed. "What I... Hobbes, are you crazy?"

"That's what you said." Hobbes scowled. "Or are you saying you only want me when you're going gland happy?"

Fawkes just gave him with that beaten puppy look and said nothing. Hobbes flung his arms out from his sides. "Fine. Be like that. I just thought..." he turned toward the door, then back again. "Look, in case you're worried about this – it wouldn't be the first time for me doing this kinda stuff. Just so's you know."

"You've done... stuff... with guys before?" Fawkes looked shaken. "You're gay?"

"No, I am not gay." Hobbes fidgeted a little under his shocked gaze. "I'm an agent. There's nothing I wouldn't do for my country. There's damn little I haven't done, all right?"

"And this is something else you're doing for your country?" Fawkes glared at him. "Thanks a million."

"I'm doin' it..." Hobbes swallowed and licked his lips nervously. "I'm doin' it for you. We're partners, right?"

Fawkes had been avoiding his eyes most of the time they'd been in here; now, finally, he looked up at Hobbes. "And partners do for each other."

"Yeah." Hobbes found himself smiling, just a bit. "They do."

"I don't know, Bobby. This could be a big mistake." Fawkes looked as though he was torn between hope and fear. "Are you sure?"

There was no point in admitting his own uncertainties. Hobbes stepped forward so he was right in front of Fawkes. "Sure, I'm sure. What're we waiting for?"

He'd thought that at the last moment Fawkes might pull away, or say he'd changed his mind, but he didn't. Their lips met in a tentative caress and parted almost immediately. Hobbes smiled up at his partner. "Well?"

Fawkes didn't answer him, but his head drooped a little lower and they kissed again. The bruise on Hobbes' mouth throbbed uncomfortably, but it was a gentle kiss. Fawkes was good at kissing. They both were. They stood close together for a long time, just kissing, touching each other's chests and arms a little. Nothing too intense.

Hobbes could feel himself relaxing again, getting into the swing of it. It was a long time since he'd kissed a guy. When he felt Fawkes' tension easing Hobbes started walking him backwards to the bed. Fawkes tensed up again.

"It's okay, Darien." Hobbes put his hands on Fawkes' wide shoulders and pushed him down so he was sitting on the end of the bed. "We'll just lie down and do this for a while. Okay?"

Fawkes nodded uncertainly. "All right." He bent over and started unlacing his sneakers.

Hobbes sat beside him and removed his shoes and socks too. Then they both scooted up the bed and stretched out, side by side. Not looking at each other.

"This is good, isn't it?" Hobbes turned his head and caught Fawkes sneaking a glance at him. He grinned and rolled onto his side.

That was all it took. Fawkes rolled over so their faces were only inches apart. It was easier, now that their faces were on the same level. The kisses deepened, got serious and then hot. Their hands weren't quite so gentle as they had been before, but it was still good. Real good.

Hobbes could feel his cock swelling hopefully inside his pants. A sudden memory of Fawkes pressed up against him, hard and hungry sent a jolt from his groin straight to his head. He groaned softly against Fawkes' mouth and his left hand crept down Fawkes' lean body to his waist.

Luckily Fawkes was with him on this one. They pulled at each other's shirts, eventually managing to find their way to the warm bare skin beneath. For a while that was enough. There were hardly more than a few scraps of bare skin actually showing, but their hands moved easily beneath the clothing, stroking, teasing. Hobbes moaned again. It had been so very long, so many nights alone.

"Bobby..." Fawkes' mouth abandoned his, laying a trail of kisses down to his throat. "God, this is... God, it's good."

"Yeah." Hobbes laughed breathlessly. His head was spinning from all this pleasure and it still wasn't enough. He slid his hands down Fawkes' chest and fumbled with his pants. It took a while to force his shaking hands to do what he wanted them to do, but finally he was able to shove the clothing down a little and take Fawkes' cock into his eager grasp.

Fawkes thrust his hips forward once, uncontrollably, then lay still, panting. In spite of all Fawkes' smooth ways with women, Hobbes suspected it had been quite a while for him as well. He stroked the hard cock lightly with his fingertips. "You like it?"

"Like it?" Fawkes lifted his head to stare at Hobbes incredulously. "Jesus, Bobby..."

"Then relax, okay? Take it slow." Hobbes ignored Fawkes' muttered comment about Dr Ruth and kissed him again. He stroked Fawkes' cock slowly, content to keep things simple and hoping that Fawkes' would take the hint soon. Otherwise he was likely to get the short end of this exchange.

Sure enough, Fawkes reached for his belt and began to unfasten it. Then his pants. The first touch sent fire into his brain and he couldn't hold back a sob of pure need. Fawkes' lips brushed gently against his, while Fawkes' hand stroked him. Hobbes could feel his hips rocking insistently into the touch. So much for making this last. He tightened his grip on Fawkes' cock.

It would have been enough for Hobbes to finish off that way but, just as he was getting close, he felt Fawkes' hands pushing his away. "Bobby, wait."

"Oh God, what?" He was gonna come soon, whether Fawkes helped him or not.

Fawkes pushed his pants down a little further and then they were pressed together, the slickness of their erections leaving wet trails across Hobbes' skin. The brush of Fawkes' cock against his made Hobbes sob again, and then he was thrusting like a crazy man, aware only of the need to find release. It came in a glorious rush of sensation as everything around him went dark. He was blinded, and deafened by the pounding of his heart. He felt, rather than heard Fawkes cry out; felt the vibration of it against his chest, felt the extra heat against his belly.

Slowly, the euphoria faded and practicalities started to buzz in Hobbes' head. He needed to move. Fawkes would probably start freaking out again now that it was over. He really needed to clean the spunk off his stomach before it got onto his clothes. He sat up and groped for the extra large box of tissues kindly provided by the motel.

"Here." He threw a handful to Fawkes, who was still trying to pry his eyes open.

By the time Hobbes had cleaned himself up, tucked himself away and zipped up, Fawkes was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hair and clothes looking only slightly more rumpled than usual. His head was bowed slightly and he didn't even try to look Hobbes in the eyes. "So what's next?"

He knew what Fawkes was asking – should they stay or leave? He felt a momentary irritation that he should be the one to decide, but he figured Fawkes still felt guilty over the other day and wasn't going to push for anything. It was easy enough for him to decide. He was tired of being alone, and of having to be careful. He wanted to live, for a change.

"You got anywhere you need to be?" Hobbes tried to keep his voice casual, but it shook a little. "Like in the next couple hours?"

"No." Fawkes glanced back over his shoulder, looking hopeful. "This is crazy."

"Yeah." Hobbes grinned. "You wanna do it again?"

"Now?"

"Why not?" Hobbes started to unbutton his shirt. It was fine for Fawkes to turn up at the Agency looking like he'd slept in his clothes. Nobody would notice the difference. But if Hobbes did that, they'd be watching him all day for signs of an incipient breakdown. Maybe he ought to resent that, but it was just the way things were.

He shook out the shirt carefully and hung it on a chair back to keep it from wrinkling. His pants were drip dry, so they should be okay as long as he hung them up sometime during the evening. Hobbes wasn't planning to stay in them for very long, but he figured that Fawkes might like something to unwrap.

Fawkes was lying on the bed again, and Hobbes saw with a little tingle of pleasure that he hadn't bothered to zip up his pants. He couldn't see much, just a tiny triangle of smooth, tanned skin, but it was more than enough. He slid onto the bed beside Fawkes and they started kissing again.

Being horizontal was pretty damn good. The differences in their heights didn't matter here; they could kiss for as long as they wanted and then, when things started heating up, Hobbes could just slither down a little bit and, whammo! they'd be eye to eye in a whole new way.

Fawkes was making soft, appreciative noises, and his hands were getting adventurous again, sliding over Hobbes' bare arms and teasing at his nipples through the thin undershirt he was wearing. Hobbes had never been touched by anybody with such big hands before. At least, not like this. It was a revelation all right.

They both got the same idea at the same time. In spite of that, and a certain lack of co-operation, they managed to peel each other down to bare torsos and found a whole new territory to explore. Judging by the way Fawkes was going after his nipples, it wasn't hard for Hobbes to deduce that he liked to be on the receiving end too. He tore his mouth away from Fawkes' and slid down a bit. Fawkes' chest was as smooth as a baby's, but buffed and tanned to perfection. Hobbes licked gently at a nut-brown nipple and felt a shudder run through him.

Fawkes was long too. His pants had slid down to his hips, accentuating the lines of his lean, supple body. If he hadn't climaxed less than ten minutes ago, Hobbes would have been in serious trouble by now. As it was, his cock stirred pleasurably, but without urgency. He lowered his head again to suck at Fawkes' other nipple and grinned to himself as Fawkes moaned. He'd found his partner's weak spot, no doubt about that.

It was not long after that when Fawkes found a weak spot Hobbes had never even known existed. Of course, when he and Vivian had been together, he'd had a lot more hair on top... but who would have guessed that having the top of his head rubbed in tiny, gentle circles would turn him on so badly? Hobbes growled and bit delicately at the peaked tip of one nipple.

"Hey!" Fawkes flinched, narrowly avoiding more serious damage in the process. "Take it easy, tiger. I'm sensitive there."

Oh, yeah... "I noticed." Hobbes licked the tender spot and then sucked some more. "Better?"

"Mm-hmm. Do it again."

"Sure. And you do that thing." Hobbes carefully eased Fawkes' crumpled pants down a little.

The rubbing started up again on his scalp. "You mean this?"

"That's it." Hobbes felt like his brains were in danger of dribbling out his ears.

Too much more of this and it would all be over almost before they knew it. Hobbes rolled Fawkes onto his back and slid his hands inside his pants, thanking God and Darien Fawkes that he always wore loose clothing. With a quick movement, he got Fawkes' pants down to mid thigh, and then to knee level. A couple of kicks and the pants and shorts went sailing over the end of the bed.

"Well, well." Hobbes grinned. There wasn't even the hint of a tan line anywhere on Fawkes' body. Not much hair either, just a narrow line running from his navel down to a neat triangle at his groin. His cock and balls, swollen with arousal, nestled cosily in the midst of the dark thatch.

He didn't seem very fazed by Hobbes' inspection of his body, but lay grinning for a moment before lunging for his partner. "Now it's your turn, Bobby Hobbes. Let's see what you're made of."

He wrestled Hobbes to the mattress and set about stripping off his remaining clothes. Hobbes put up no more than a token struggle. He knew damn well he had nothing to worry about. He might be shorter and stockier, but there wasn't an ounce of excess fat on his body, and his tan line was considerably less than respectable. Fawkes was probably in for a big surprise. And as far as the other thing went... well Fawkes might be in proportion to the length of his body and the size of his hands, but Hobbes was in proportion too, shorter maybe, but sturdy with it.

He watched the emotions flickering over Fawkes' face. Mostly approval, he thought, and then closed his eyes with a sigh as those big, gentle hands began to explore. After a while he simply pulled Fawkes over on top of him and let his body move in time with the music singing in his veins.

"Mm... Bobby... oh God..." Fawkes' groans were getting louder, distracting him. Hobbes seized Fawkes' head between his hands and pressed a deep kiss on his parted lips, effectively silencing him.

There was nothing like the feel of skin against skin, warm and sweaty and smooth as silk. Hobbes closed his eyes and slid his hands down to Fawkes' ass, cupping the cheeks firmly, holding him close. Fawkes got a knee between his legs and, helped by the increased traction, sped up the tempo of his thrusts. Sensation built and built inside him until all he could feel was the slick glide of cock against cock.

Finally, with a soft growl, Hobbes flipped them over so that Fawkes was underneath him and loosed the last of his self-restraint. He thrust furiously against Fawkes' belly, driving hard against the firm muscle beneath him. Part of him was horrified, afraid that he'd pushed Fawkes too far, but unable to stop himself. Then Fawkes seized his mouth in a kiss almost as bruising as the one he'd endured in the padded room. A long leg wrapped itself across his hips, holding him in place.

Somehow Hobbes got his mouth free and dragged in one last sobbing breath that turned into a shocked cry. His body took on a life of its own, dragging him to ecstasy, and all too soon, back again to the reality of sweat-soaked, exhausted bodies and oxygen deprived lungs. He managed to slide off Fawkes' body and lay gasping beside him.

It was beginning to seem like Fawkes was the kind of guy who just rolled over and went to sleep after sex. Not that he actually had, but he sure wasn't entirely awake either. Hobbes staggered to the bathroom in search of a washcloth. Sex with guys was one thing, lying around covered in his own or somebody else's spunk just wasn't something he was into.

"Here." He tossed the washcloth onto Fawkes' chest.

One eye opened and Fawkes took hold of the cloth and wiped haphazardly at the smears of semen on his stomach. When he'd finished, Hobbes took the cloth off him and tossed it through the bathroom door into the shower stall. He crawled onto the bed and thought that maybe Fawkes had the right idea. He yawned hugely.

"So you're just going to sleep now?" Fawkes sounded annoyed. He was obviously waking up.

Hobbes yawned again, uncontrollably. "Yeah. We've got all night, ain't we? Howabout we get takeout later?"

Fawkes rolled onto his side and propped his head on one hand, smiling down at him. "We never did have that talk."

"What are we? Girls?" Hobbes grunted and rolled onto his side too. Facing away from Fawkes. "We can talk later. Wake me in two."

Laughter brushed a whisper of air across his shoulder, then Fawkes' warm body settled at his back, spooning against him and an arm wrapped itself around his waist. The last thing Hobbes was aware of was the caress of lips on the nape of his neck.

 


End file.
